I was in the hospital for a week and sent home because no changes took place. I remember praying to God and letting Him know, if He desired to use a sponge the size and thickness of a one dollar bill, He could dry up Niagara Falls. If He wanted to fill the Grand Canyon with the sand in an hourglass, I believed and knew He could. I only wanted the hole no doubt smaller than a pin prick in my embryonic sac to be sealed. I asked Him to do this for me, for us, for my baby girl. I expected and believed He’d do it.
I was discharged from the hospital after a week’s stay but the next day, labor pains began. I thought if I ignored them, they would stop but the contractions came closer and closer together. My husband called the doctor and we were told to meet him at the hospital.
Our baby girl was born but she did not survive. She was too young and major organs had not developed to sustain her life. I prayed my youngest sister would not go into depression because of our loss. I prayed for everyone except myself.
My happy marriage fell apart. I became someone I did not recognize or wanted to know. My home became my hideout from the world. I did not receive visitors, calls or condolences. It was not until years later that I realize what happened to me.
All of the advice I had given others during their losses and hardships was not received by me. I turned away from everyone. The loss of my dad rebounded and was combined with losing my daughter and a failing marriage. I found strength within myself to bring an end to what had not been the best years of my life for some time. I filed for divorce and moved out of the home I had built as a single woman.
We’re told not to make major decisions during turbulent times or a crisis. I felt God did what He thought was best and I was obligated to accept it. I did not understand but I was taught not to question God. I didn’t.
